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I effectively had three chances to drink in Lincoln – with the back up of a bottle of Stokey Brown from Pressure Drop. I’d come to the impression that Cathedral Heights had gone out of business and I can’t seem to locate anyone selling Poacher’s, but there were claims of a off license on the high street that was purely Poacher’s. This is a fair trudge from the hotel, and was a wasted journey. The surviving off licence on the High Street had a reasonably interesting selection of bottles – once more I mourn my dislike of Sheps – and I picked up some Bateman‘s, just in case. I went down to the Green Dragon, which has eleven handpumps but recent reviews suggested that enthusiasm be curbed. A chalk board outside promised delights, but the board inside apologised for the lack of draught ales, but real ales were available. Well, ish. A Wychwood Dirty Tackle was okay. A CAMRA magazine for Lincolnshire pointed me to a couple of possibilities, but I checked the Witch and Wardrobe first – who knew Mansfield was still brewed, albeit by Marston’s? – and then moved off to the The Jolly Brewer on Broadgate. Half a dozen pumps, and regretting that pint in the Green Dragon when a half would have done. I tried the Oldenshaw Mowbray Mash, which got me into the county. Clearly a pub to come back to, although its publicity spiel claims it’s “reputed music venue”. Is it a music venue or not? Then it was time to go to the restaurant for a meal, during which I stuck to tea, and then a bottle of Tom Wood’s Lincoln Gold, which would have been nicer warmer I suspect.

After the conference and conference meal, I led the way to the Tap and Spile on Hungate, with four or five handpumps, and a traditional boozer. Nothing local, alas, but there was Great Newsome Frothingham Best, from Hull, and an old time’s sake Theakston XB.

Saturday had more time for a wander – a lunch time drop in the Strait and Narrow, for a pleasant Grafter’s Lovely Jubblies and an interesting stouty Springhead Drop o’ the Black Stuff. Several hours later I returned to The Jolly Brewer, and investigated their third pints to tick a few boxes: Dark Horse and Ernest George from Welbeck Abbey (a collaboration between the abbey estate and Kelham Island?) and Idle Dark Black Abbot. A puzzled local asked me if these were all the same – the beers were all dark – and scanned my beer notebook. All very confusing. I wandered from here up the hill to the Stugglers Arms, behind the castle, which had an attractive range of beers: Kelham Island Pale Rider – deliccious as always – Derby Mischief – and then tactical mistakes: Salamander Best Intentions, rather dull, and Holden‘s Black Country Special, very nice indeed. It was rather confusing to be asked as I wandered back to the b&b if there was a Wetherspoons around, when there were several decent boozers. I told him he needed to go down the hill, but he still looked confused.

So, a few Lincolnshire ticks, and a few more from the East Midlands and Yorkshire. A boozy weekend, topped off by failing to have time to buy a bottle at St Pancras. This was probably just as well.

Having gone east, now west, to Westfield Stratford’s eviler twin, Westfield London in White City/Shepherd’s Bush. We’ll skip over Manet exhibition as irrelevant (absinthe?), and the walk via the Haunch of Venison to Bond Street underground and the Central line. Indeed we’ll skip over the greasy spoon breakfast I’d been aching for for a couple of weeks.

The main thing is a long walk in dusk through to Goldhawk Road – which enduring Googlemap and iMap fail as I could quite orientate the map with the territory and went three quarters of the way around a major roundabout. I’d planned to walk to Notting Hill and Chiswick, clearly not smart to do from Shepherd’s Bush, so settled for an off-license that sold Mocada (Notting Hil) and the long walk to Chiswick. I have a vague memory that I would be paying homage to The Falls. So be it.

The Duchess of Cambridge appears to be always on the point of becoming a brewpub – the opposite of always already – and have still not reached it, but have a number of handpumps and a CAMRA discount. Whilst Sambrook’s is local, and Marlow Rebellion is tasty, I ended up with a Shardlow England, marking some sporting event. Okay, but not great. Quite a large pub, I suspect several rooms knocked through.

Darkness settled as I left Goldhawk Road for Stambrook Road, and the left turn at Turnham Green, that revealed, as I feared, that the District Line was out of action, but at least gave me the opportunity to check out an Oxfam Bookshop. The offle, an Oddbins, had a range of Moncada, so I settled for a Notting Hill Golden Blonde. I need to return here in daylight, to check out the Hogarth and his Dog statue, and perhaps another look at the Lamb, hidden away down Barlew Mow Passage. This is an L-shaped bar, part devoted to food, and the brewery at the end closest to Chiswick High Street. A row of empty pumps didn’t inspire confidence, nor did two or three Shepherd Neame brews, but there was a Lamb Dark Ale. I wasn’t impressed, I have to say.

I worked out that I was two hours’ walk from Victoria, and whilst I could walk back to Shepherd’s Bush, it made more sense to walk to West Kensington for the District Line. I had an increasingly insistent bladder, but the toilets were closed in the shopping centre I found. It was a relief, as it were to find Hammersmith was open for the Picadilly Line, and I got back to Victoria, missing a train by a minute.

Time, then, for the Cask Pub and Kitchen, a pint of Redemption Urban Dusk – dark, smoky – and Redwillow Faithless XVII – a beetroot stout, of all things. Still, I’m no stout fan. Plenty of time for a stroll back to the station, and a bottle on the train. Next up either north or south – Highgate or Herne Hill… Although Haggerston is tempting.

On Friday I set out to Stratford as a means of tracking down some of the East London beers – and it made sense to get the Overground from Stratford So-Called International. (It would make sense to walk, but the Olympic legacy means you need to circumambulate the Olympic Village, tripling the distance.) Having by instinct sat at the front of the HS1, I exited the station by a difference escalator than usual and, in search of Caffe Nerd, realised I had found Tap East. I’ve been here twice before, but both times had taken rather longer routes back to the station. This may not be a useful recovery.

Hackney Central is convenient for the Cock Tavern, Mare Street, a single square room on a corner, entry through the corner. I’m guessing the space was subdivided at some point, but it’s a cavernous space dominated by dark wood. I didn’t count the hand pumps, but there were four Howling Hops, two Redemption, a Brodies, and something from the west country, along with five cider pumps. Tempting though the Redemption was, I decided to focus on two of the onsite beers – the Session Wit, which was delicious and it hardly felt like 3% and the Chocolate Stout 5.2%, which tasted okay, but I’m no stout fan. Rather than continuing with the Mild or the other stout, I decided to risk a Brodies Mocha, ticking off a second new-to-me brewery, but weighing in at a hefty 9% and tasting like MDF in a glass. Smoky, coffee, chocolatey, but dusty and not entirely pleasant.

I hit Mare Street and headed south – walking past London Fields where there is another brewery and buying a couple of their bottles for the train. I began to recognise where I was, having stayed in the area for a couple of nights, and cut left toward Victoria Park and the Britannia, where I was hoping for something from the Hackney Brewery. It’s a wide, shallow pub, with an area curtained off but clearly knocked through into a single room. It was one of those pubs that doesn’t seem to have enough tables for its size, but there was friendly dog visiting. The empty beer pumps were unpromising, but at opposite ends there was Laines Best and Hackney American Pale Ale. I risked something from Sussex – it’s Brighton – having had a poor Laines before. This, alas, ran to form – if this is Best, I don’t want second best – but the Hackney American Pale Ale at 4.5% was also poor. The Laines had a flavour of pear drops, and there was something off (sour) about the Hackney, making me wonder if this was a cellaring issue. I must try one elsewhere, but I’m in no mood to retry Laines.

Heading further east, into industrial decline, I located the Crate on the edge of the Olympic Park and next to what I take to be the river Lea. This has a post-industrial vibe, but of a 1980s municipal leisure centre feel, large white bricks, improvised seating in an l-shape around a slanting bar in front of the pizzeria cookery area. I think this place would be fun to come to; at least four beer pumps, with chalked pump faces. I went for the Golden Ale, which, although not unpleasant, had a bit of a generic craft beer taste at 3.8%, and their IPA at 5.4%, which was much more pleasant. I would definitely come back.

I walked to Hackney Wick station, noting a more direct route, and dropped some money drunkenly, and watched a train go by with an open door. Another arrived ten minutes later, packed, and I caught this back to Stratford. After some calories and a coffee, I found the Tap East and had a Tonic Ale 3% and had an IPA of some description. Whilst I like their three stouts, there’s something I don’t like about their ales. There’s a certain… soapiness… about them which doesn’t work for me.

And then, back to the train, and a bottle of London Fields, a Marynka IPA which was very tasty. (I understand marynka is a Polish variety of hops.)

So, four new breweries tried, but in retrospect staying in the Cock Tavern would have been smarter.